One man's trash is another man's treasure. You've heard that saying probably hundreds of times, right? But who wants to be digging through garbage?

Apparently me. And it's not something I'm proud of. In fact, it's not something I even realized that I did as often as I do. And it's gross. And coming from a person who will contort herself like a ninja when inside a public restroom in order to hit the flusher with my foot to save germs from touching my fingers, it's actually quite shocking.But as I gazed into a grimy gas station garbage can today, I really got to thinking. Unfortunately for me, somewhere in that gelatinous heap of waste was my car keys. My car keys that I so casually dropped into the bin right along with a half-drank cup of luke-warm coffee and bunch of granola bar and gum wrappers that I finally cleaned out of my purse. For a moment, I thought I had options. Maybe, just maybe, I could walk home for an extra set and just leave these keys rest in peace.Then I realized: Hey, I've done this before. Sadly, I've done this a lot.My hobby of dumpster diving began around the age of 12 or 13. It was the first summer that Pepsi began their Pepsi Point promotion and I wanted them bad! The idea was simple: Buy pepsi, collect points, and win stuff. My mother drank quite a lot of Diet Pepsi, but that wasn't adding up quickly enough. I wanted to collect enough for that Pepsi beach blanket and the Pepsi beach chair and the Pepsi baseball jersey and any other Pepsi anything I could get. I wanted it all. And I wanted it now. I was a like a junkie. I had to get that next point. And so I began reaching in at our softball games. Initially it just started where I'd skim the bottles off the top of the garbage can, peel off the label which housed the Point, and never reach to the "real" garbage below. But then....I did. Then I started to go a little further. It's so gross to think about now as an adult who carries around hand sanitzer everywhere I go. But I did it. Thankfully, I grew up and matured (at least a little bit, I hope) and I stopped skimming through other people's trash to win frivolous things. But I dumpster dove again just a few years ago. This time, I don't think it was my fault. I had some relatives over for the holidays and we had decided to wrap gifts at the mall for charity and donate our tip money to the humane society. It was a slow day and we didn't raise much. But later that night, the $22 in tip money was nowhere to be found. We searched everywhere only to realize that we must have accidently thrown it out. This wouldn't be an issue for most people- simply walk to your curb and pull the bag back out of the trash can. However, I lived in a huge apartment complex where everyone tossed their trash into one giant dumpster. My dad said he would just give me the money we had pitched. Trying to find it was foolish (and gross), he said. And looking back, why didn't I just take it? But instead, my mom and I bundled up (it's freezing here in Wisconsin in the winter), and with a ladder and flashlight in hand, we headed to the dumpster in the middle of the night. And I went in. Let me emphasize the fact that I climbed a ladder, in pitch darkness, and crawled into a dumpster. I did that for $22. I waded through god-knows-what and accidently opened quite a few other bags of trash before FINALLY finding the coveted prize. But I got it. And we made a few kitties happy at the shelter.Which brings me back to the current problem at hand.

After standing there, staring into that garbage can with visions of my past dumpter diving indiscretions flashing before my eyes, I realized that these legs of mine.....in these heels of mine......were not going to be walking home. Nor was I willing to give up the 142 odd barcode keycards that have accumulated on my keyring over time. I know half of those tags probably belong to businesses and loyalty programs that no longer exist. But in the off chance that I still can use 1 of them, I had to do it. I had to go in. I had to suck it up and reach into that abyss.But first I looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Ok, ok, ok....I am soooooo lying right now. I actually did look around, but not to make sure the coast was clear. I was hoping to spot a man at the next pump that I could bat my eyelashes at and allow him to swoop in like a knight in shining armor to retrieve the keys for me. But I was alone.So I scrunched up my face, let out a little squeal, and went for it. I got them. But it wasn't easy.

And I wish I could say that I was making all of this up for the sake of a good story, but it's unfortunately true. And maybe they have meetings somewhere for people like me. "Hi. My name is Laura. And I'm a dumpster diver."

Copyright 2014 Laura McKenna. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without express written consent.

For the past few weeks, the graduation invitations have been trickling into my mailbox. It really is a nice break from the constant reminders that I shop way too much! My trip to the mailbox usually goes a little something like this: credit card bill.... credit card bill..... flyer so I can find more things to charge....bill....bill.... (and now) invitation!

It's that time of year and I know what most grads want in return for that invitation- money, money, money, MONEY!!! Especially high school graduates that are gearing up for their first year of college in the fall. And money is great. Don't get me wrong. But I'd like to also pass along a little gift that they can hold on to - a few nuggets, if you will - from someone who's been there and done that. And like most advice to most people, they'll hear what they want. But it's worth a shot.

*Go away. Not permanently, obviously. You'll get to come back home for summer and winter breaks. But GO AWAY TO SCHOOL.I've had this debate many times, and I won't budge. You may, on the surface, learn the same course material whether you go or stay close to home. But you will miss out on so much. So much! Living at home with mom & dad is probably way cheaper than living on campus elsewhere, but trust me. Your parents have lived with you for a good 17 or 18 years at this point. They are ready for you to leave, even if they don't realize it. So whether college is 30 minutes away or 3,000 miles. Go! And live on campus. It'll be the scariest thing you've ever done this far in your life. But the experience is so worth it.

*Stay. I have you really confused now, and you haven't even went through the process of scheduling all your classes! Good luck with that! But here's what I mean: If you go away to college (and you should), do not....I repeat....DO NOT....come home every weekend. Stay there. Your first few months may be a little difficult to adjust to. Your classes may suck. Your roommates may be insane. If not, maybe you are the crazy roomie. Doesn't matter. DO NOT come home on the weekends. STAY AT SCHOOL. Get involved in a club. Go off campus with some people from your statistics class for a roadtrip. Heck, sit in your dorm lobby with your books all Saturday long eating Easy Mac and burnt popcorn for all I care. But don't you dare head for home. You'll thank me for this advice someday. Trust me.

*Wear flip flops in the shower. If you can't find them, be dirty that day. But NEVER (and I repeat) NEVER enter into those showers without protection. You following so far? Good. Keep reading. You'll be doing a lot of that in the upcoming years, so don't poop out on me yet.

*Try something that you've never done before. For me, it was cheerleading. I had played sports in high school, but never cheered from the sidelines. Now I know that particular "something" is not a death defying activity that challenged my inner fortitude. Maybe you'll be a little more daring. But it was something new. I tried it for a season and I realized that I would much rather watch a football game on Saturday than participate in one. And that's ok. Really, it is. It's ok to quit things, just not in the middle of them. In fact, that's what it's all about. College should teach you things about your chosen major, but also about yourself. And some of those things will be at a deep, core level. Other times, the lesson might be to retire the pom-poms and do something you enjoy a little more.

*Take Chinese as a foreign language. Maybe that came out wrong. What I meant to say was: Take a foreign language. Any of them, really. But if you study Mandarin Chinese, I think you'll like it. There's something beautiful (at least to me...and probably to the hundreds of millions of Chinese people who speak it everyday) about the smooth lines of the characters. And if nothing else, many years later you'll be able to point out to your co-worker that their new Chinese symbol tattoo does not, in fact, stand for "fierce competitor". It actually stands for "delicate flower". But hey, maybe he'll get a discount on the next one? Doesn't hurt to ask.

But beyond that, there is something that feels nostalgic to me when I can say in Chinese: "Thank you" or "Hello" or "I would like you to please bring me a bottle of beer." Here's the funny part. I don't even like beer. But I remember all of that because it genuinely interested me. I may never need to use it in my life, but I think I got more out of that class than I did out of some of my actual Communications classes (and that was my darn major!) So don't be afraid to challenge yourself with something that seems impossible. You could learn way more than you ever intended.*And challenge your thinking.Take a religion class or a philosophy course. Even if you don't have to in order to graduate, do it anyway. I took a class on Taoism which is a Chinese philosophy. And I found myself reading ahead! Listen, I am a procrastinator to the EXTREME! I never read ahead before that point (or do anything ahead of time, to this day). I'm lucky to get things finished with usually only a few minutes to spare! Company is coming over and the entire house needs cleaned? Ok, I'll start cleaning at about 10pm...the night before. Usually for a 9am flight, I'll start packing at 7. Even if I'd had the trip planned for months! That's the kind of personality I have. But after the first few days of Taoism class, I wanted to continue reading things that weren't even on the syllabus! I was fascinated by it. And quite honestly, most of the time, I'm not easily impressed. So whether it's Buddhism, Islam, or any other form of thought or practice, just pick one (or pick a couple!). Learning a little something about what other people do and why they feel the way they feel is never a bad thing. The world may be a little better place if we all opened up our minds a little more. You don't have to convert. But you'll learn that it really is a great big world out there. And there's room for all of us.

*Go to parties. Anyone who is a parent is probably reading this and thinking, "She surely meant: Do not go to parties. Stay in the library and study- night and day- from the time we move you in until it's time for graduation."

But I do mean it. Go to parties. Even better, go to themed-costume parties! In my alumni opinion, I think college should be as much about what you learn as it should be about what you experience. I tried to explain that to my dad every time tuition was due and I don't think he was buying it, either. But here's the thing: You're not going to remember what exact percentage you received on a test in junior year geology, but you will remember those nights you shared with the friends you will never forget. By no means should you throw caution to the wind and use your textbooks to balance out your beer pong table. That's not at all what I'm saying. But have a social life. Make friends. And learn how to manage your time between the two. There's a lot of adults who still can't get it right, so start practicing early. If you find yourself doing nothing but studying 24/7, just remember what happened to Jack Nicholson in The Shining. All work and no play didn't just make Jack a dull boy. It wrecked an entire bathroom door. With an ax! That's not cool.

*Call your parents. Remember when I said they wanted you out of the house? They did. I wasn't lying. They don't miss your mess. But they also do miss you. And after my suggestion that you go to parties, they are going to be thinking you are doing things that they don't want to think about you doing. And chances are, you are. But still call them. Or if that's too much, please text them. And not just when you need more money. Call on a random Tuesday, just to tell them you're alive. And tell them you're going to classes. And tell them you are eating more than just pizza and ramen noodles. And really mean it.

*And enjoy this thing they call a higher education. Most of this stuff won't mean a whole lot of anything to you until it's over. The truth? I wouldn't have believed most of it until I experienced it.

But believe this: It will be over before you know it. Those 4 years (2 for some, maybe 6 for others) will be some of the most overwhelming, sleep-deprived, terrible nutritioned, emotionally draining years of your life. And they will be crammed with memories and friendships, more than you can ever imagine. You'll come out of it thinking, "I'm ready for you, World!" And then the real world will actually set in and you'll wish you could have just one more year. So enjoy it--- the research papers, the group projects with students you like, the group projects with classmates you don't like, the internships, the failed exams, the professors who don't take attendance, the professors who do, the dining hall food that YOU didn't have to make, the surprise cards in the mail from your mom, the annoying people living next to you, the extra long dorm sheets that will never fit another bed anywhere after college, and the classes that will leave that one little nugget of something in your brain that lasts forever. Enjoy it. Because as tough as it seems at the time. It's so worth it.

Thanks for reading. One more thing?

Choose one that describes you: *

I'm a college gradI'll attend collegeDid not attend collegeStill in high school

I've never been to therapy. If you asked some of my closest friends, they might suggest I need to seek help. Like right now. Preferably sooner than later. But hey, they must like a little crazy in their world. Obviously!If I ever lay down on a shrink's pleather couch... (don't ask me why it's pleather, but I'm pretty sure it would be)...they would probably say what I always hear them say in the movies. "Tell me about your childhood."Well, we could probably skip all that and get right down to business:

It's all my mother's fault.Now I know that I'm raising cats, while she raised daughters. And I also know parenting doesn't come with a manual. But I'm pretty sure if it did, it would include these key points.....*Leashing your dog is one thing. Leashing you daughter is kind of another. Yeah, she put a leash on me. She said it was some child-harness-thing that was designed for my own good. Call it whatever you like, but it was a leash. And she said that I loved it! I sure bet I did! Funny how I don't remember thatpart of the story. It's probably one of those terrible, repressed memories that I would recall under hypnosis on that pleather couch. But my mother, to this day, says that she had to use it because I would wander up and talk to everyone and she was afraid that they would snatch me up. The leash probably really did deter that. If I witnessed something like that, I'd steer clear of the whole family!

*Playpens = good idea. Animal corrals = bad idea. Yeah, she had my dad build a pen in our backyard. No, not a playpen. That would make too much sense. This was a pen you could keep some small livestock in. As you can see in the picture, I was on the outside of the pen, roaming free with all the other humans in the world that day. She said they built it so I didn't wander out onto the street, but all I did was cry when they put me in there. REALLY??? I wonder why, Mom!!Now this is all making sense, huh? It's a wonder I'm as normal as a I am! Let's continue.*Wait in the parking lot. You may see a trend here, but I cried a lot when I was little. I'm a Cancer (by the luck of the zodiac), so it's really out of my hands. I'm emotional, ya know? So when it came time for pre-school, I cried. A LOT. I didn't want my mom to leave me there. The neighbor boy, Nathan, stuffed me in one of the Playschool refrigerators on the first day. Then he leaned against the door, trapping me inside. Oh, the horror! It was just not a safe place for my delicate little self! So my mom promised to wait in the parking lot while I was inside. She said that if I felt lonely, I could just think of her outside the classroom doors, just a few yards away. That actually worked and I made it out of pre-school alive and without much drama the rest of my academic career. That is, until my sophomore year of high school. I vividly remember sitting around the dinner table after a volleyball game and my mother saying to me, "Well, you really didn't think I was sitting in that parking lot day after day, did you?" WHATTTTTT??????? Of course I did! What other things was this woman hiding?!?!? What should have been hidden? The scissors.

*Do not cut your child's hair. Take them to the professionals. I think you get the picture. From the picture. Poor kid.But even with all these parental rule violations, she did a few things right. She's the first person I call when I've had a bad day. And somehow she just knows immediately. I don't even have so start uncontrollably sobbing (which sometimes happens, but not like it did when I was 5 and wearing a leash with chopped up bangs). She knows just what to say. And sometimes, she doesn't even have to say anything at all. She just has to be there. And she is. Always. So if some old guy with a pleather couch ever asked me how I think my life turned out.... I'd have to say just right. And it's all my mother's fault.

Copyright 2014 Laura McKenna. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without express written consent.

Who is potenti﻿al marriage mat﻿erial?It's as simple as this: Men go for looks. Women go for men with money. That's what we chatt﻿ed about on the show this morning and our phone lines exploded with opinions. I had come acr﻿oss this interesting article that discussed what people really look for when trying to find The One. And the article said it comes down to this: Men look for a good-looking lady. And us ladies, we go for a man who can provide. As Rod Tidwell famously shouted, "SHOW ME THE MONEY!"

**Gasp**

I know what's going through your mind. '''Not me! I'd never be that shallow.'''

Really? Okay. But I'm not buying that.

Men, you've never ogled any particular supermodels? I bet you did, and you sure weren't fantasizing about the size of her....brain. Oh, you were? My bad. I'm sure your thoughts quickly drifted to all the wild, sweaty nights of passionately discussing world peace ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

And ladies, if you had a choice between Gentleman A (who has a job- whatever that may be, owns something- a car, a home, a cat, or quite frankly manages to pay his rent on time) and Gentleman B (who doesn't want a job right now because that would interrupt his video game time...oh, and he still lives in his parent's basement), please decide.

Right now. A or B?

Don't over-think it. They both may be great people. That's not the question.

The question is really about ambition. Do you want the guy who coasts along or the one who wants to pave his way through the world? Still not convinced? Fast forward 10 years. Do you want the guy still sitting in the basement (this time it's yours), in his undies, STILL playing his video games and STILL not working? And there you are: running the kids to practice, picking up the groceries and making dinner, then driving back to the office because your co-worker can't find your report and they're meeting with a huge client in a half hour. Your husband could help you out, but he's really close to beating Level 14 and he's been trying to reach that goal all week.

Ambition. Which leads to money. Which leads to stability and security.

That's not being a gold-digger. It's being able to look toward your future and say: What do I really want?

I know what I want. And that's Channing Tatum. But he's taken. So if I can't have him, I want someone who's going to have my back, share the burden of life, and be there through good times and bad. Mr. Video Gamer might be a sweet guy. But that's not going to keep the lights on. And I like to read, especially at night. And quite frankly, I'd prefer not to do that by candlelight.

Copyright 2014 Laura McKenna. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without express written consent.

Please stop posting pictures of your food. It may be an awesome salad, but it's a salad. Or a burger. Or insert some regular food here. We all eat. We have to or we die. But some of you are killing me over here. There's no need to document your lunch. Now if it's your birthday and you want to pose with your cake, do it! If you just grilled out for the first time and you pose with those steaks in hand and wearing that Kiss The Cook apron, don't let me stop you. Even if you want to post a picture of that awful looking soup (that may taste great, but looks like it should be flushed down a toilet) along with the recipe, I'm ok with that. At least I can try to figure out what part of the cooking process went wrong. But for everything else, just put it where it belongs: in your mouth. Not on twitter.And the same with the gym. You're at the gym! YAY!! Let me pick up a baton and lead the marching band right into your Zumba class. Why? Because you are awesome! On second thought, if you're at the gym, how about just working out? I don't really need to be advised on your spandex clad where-a-bouts. Because the truth is: Nobody really cares.Now let me pause for a moment, because I know what you're thinking: "Laura, that's pretty hypocritical of you to say. After all, you're writing all these blogs. You could say the same thing: Nobody really cares."See, I'm one step ahead of ya. And the truth is, you'd be right. And I totally realize that. And maybe you realize that with your constant check-ins on foursquare, too. But we do it anyway. However, the difference is, you're here right now reading this by choice. So you might just care a little bit.Or, you might be here for a different reason....*You're one of the chosen fewthat I've asked to browse through and make sure I didn't have a monumental spelling error. You're here because you feel an obligation to me to make sure I don't appear as blonde as a I am. You're probably related or a really good friend. So for that, I do care. And thank you. Or...*You don't like me and you're coming here to fulfill some weird thing you have going on where you like to point out all the things that you dislike about me. Like my terrible font, my ugly page layout, and how stupid I look sitting here typing this in holey sweatpants that I've had since high school. Ok, I know you really don't know what I'm wearing, but if it makes you smile wickedly, imagine something horrid-- and yellow! But I would never wear yellow. It'd be something tacky and pink. And 99% of the time, you'd be spot on. But let's get back to the point. Please, if you find a typo: Let me know. I know you will take great pleasure pointing it out. So I guess, you really do care, too.Or...*You're really picking up what I'm laying down with this whole blog thing. Thanks. I hope you'll comment below. And tune into my show some morning. We should grab a coffee sometime and actually just drink it without snapping a pic of it. Whoa! I'll pause a minute in case we have some minds that just exploded. Yes, it is possible. I'm only telling ya this because I do care.Or...*You've stumbled onto this page by sheer chance (or sheer luck as I would like to imagine). Maybe you're waiting for your lab results at the doctor's office. Maybe you're at work and just trying to look busy. Hey, whatever the reason, I'm really glad you're here! Maybe you're on your first date right now and you're thinking about snapping a picture of your appetizer and posting it on facebook with the caption "This is the first appetizer I shared with my future husband!" WHOA!!! STOP!!!!Slow down!! For one, put your dang phone away and enjoy his company. For two, you're gonna have him running for the nearest taxi, crazy lady!! Nobody needs to be discussing wedding bells on the first date. (That's a whole new topic for a whole new blog. Stay tuned.) And for three, go back and read the first line of this post....Here, I'll save you the scrolling up because you need to get back to your date:Please stop posting pictures of your food. Nobody really cares.

Copyright 2014 Laura McKenna. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without express written consent.

Sadly, I just realized I have spent more time today trying to order tickets to a baseball game than I did planning any of my possible weddings.Before you go back and re-read that sentence, just realize....it's not you, it's me. And it's true. (Did I mention that I've been engaged quite a few times?) Actually following through on any of them to involve a wedding -and heaven forbid- an actual marriage may be an easier process than what I've done ALL. DAY. LONG. TODAY.6 or so hours worth of messing around and I still don't have tickets.See, it all started with a seemingly easy conversation with my best friend from high school: "Hey, we should go to a Cleveland Indians game this summer when I'm home."I'm planning a trip back to Ohio in July and thought- THAT WOULD BE FUN. RELAXING. JUST LIKE OLD TIMES!But I don't remember "old times" being this complicated. Oh god, I sound old! But in this day and age of apps, hashtags, and everything just a click away on the internet, maybe I've just lost my patience. Or maybe all this technology just makes doing the simplest things SO DARN HARD!!The first logical place I went to was the team's website. Order tickets , it said. Not too difficult, right? I mean, I graduated from college, after all. Ordering something online isn't rocket science. After a few different website click here-then here-then here's, I thought I was pretty close to PLAY BALL! But oh no....Not only did the seating chart not match up with the ticket prices, it kept giving me an error message. If I wanted a regular seat in the outfield nosebleed section, I probably would have had that in a minute. But we wanted the food. Not just food. ALL YOU CAN EAT food. Included in the ticket price!?!?! SIGN US UP! Sure, they were a bit pricey. But at $100 a pop, we could do some damage with the drinks, free ice cream, soft pretzels, onion rings, nachos, full buffet (in never ending fashion). And when you figure in how much money you really end up spending on your regular ticket and just a few edible items at the ballpark, I'd say we're probably coming out ahead!I heard about these (possibly mythical) AYCE Primo Seating tickets from a few different people, so it had to exist, right? Different friends sent me photos of themselves at the game, eating that all you can eat *and drink* loveliness. The seats looked great! Real close to the field on 1st base side, right where everyone said they'd be.... except the Ticketmaster lady.Because of course, ordering online at their super convenient website would make this process too super convenient. I had to call. And go through the automated, 'hit 4,602 numbers to hopefully speak to a real person' system. But don't worry. My call was important to them.When I finally was answered in the order in which my call was received, she told me that those $100 tickets were only $55.WHAT!?!?! WE'RE GETTING A DEAL! And she said that they weren't along the 1st base line, they were behind home plate. YES!!! ROLL TRIBE!!! And they were way up high in the upper deck. SOLD!! WE'LL TAKE 4 of them....wait....what? No. No, we will not take them.I tried to explain that those tickets couldn't be the ones that I (and countless friends and family who I had been talking to all morning long) knew were the magical up-close-and-endless-food tickets. But she insisted. So I asked her if she could tell me what they included. But for that, she said she was not sure. She just knew the price and section for the tickets. Ugh! But never fear, she said, because I could always go online to their super convenient ordering site and purchase tickets 27/7. Or I could call the field box office directly and she was sure they could answer all of my questions.So I did. And after pushing 10 more buttons, found out that the box office was closed. Until Monday.

It's Saturday. And it shouldn't be this hard.

Copyright 2014 Laura McKenna. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without express written consent.